


Stolen Silences

by chai_and_coffee



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ATLAS Commander Allura, Allura - Freeform, Angst, Bisexual Shiro (Voltron), Black paladin Shiro, But not really explicit, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Melinda Writes Fanfiction, Melinda does an Appear, Mentions of Sex, Romance, Shiro - Freeform, Trauma, Voltron, has a bit of meta, shallura - Freeform, slfjdlskfj, slowburn, vld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 11:30:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16196654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chai_and_coffee/pseuds/chai_and_coffee
Summary: They both had agreed that this would never happen again, that it was simply a mistake and influenced wholly by the alcohol. Things were tense, but their voices had been light, all of it a facade to get through the days.They swear, they swear, they swear, and they do a good job of maintaining their usual relationship over the course of the next four days. Conversations and gestures are courteous and polite, they joke around and make decisions like usual. They both pretend to keep the meticulously created system of their leadership working.But things fall apart, one way or another. And it isn't long before this arrangement withers, and bitterness takes root over lost loves and unobtainable goals.There are no words to express it, but maybe there doesn't have to be.~slowburn Shallura, post S7~





	Stolen Silences

**Author's Note:**

> This was beta'd by the lovely @leftbrain and you can follow her on tumblr @forestspaces
> 
> she literally poked at me when I didn't know how to write this 
> 
> much thanks!

 

_ Phase One: The Slip-Up _

  
  


The first time it happened, they both agreed that it was a mistake. 

 

Really, it had been a mistake. The day itself had been trying for the both of them. Shiro had to cope with the fact that Adam was gone, his fiancé was gone, and quite possibly because of his idiotic actions. He had been the one who brought Sendak down to Earth, he was the one who started this whole mess. It was his fault and he was desperate; desperate for something to distract from the pain. 

 

For Allura, it was a bit different. She had to struggle with the fact that everything that she stood for, her people, her ideals, were now gone. She was a simple foot soldier in the cosmos, nothing more and nothing less. She had tried to talk to Coran and Romelle about it, but neither of the remaining Alteans felt the same way as she did, simply dismissing it as ‘not being used to change’ Afterall, how could she? Allura became a princess turned soldier, her crown lost in time and her kingdom lost in war too long ago for history to remember nor respect. She bent down to someone else’s will, someone else’s orders now. She had no power here. 

 

So of course, the two co-leaders gravitated towards each other. They ended up sitting  in Shiro’s office, cracking open a bottle of Haig that had been a gift from the MFE’s, and laughed and drank to their hearts’ content. 

 

The night passed by smoothly, jokes made, teasings and jabs exchanged, time became irrelevant as it creeped on. 

 

It made sense that by midnight, things started to get a bit blurry. Boundaries became partially transparent as Allura’s hand gravitated to his chest while Shiro had claimed a spot on her thigh with his hand, gently squeezing as though he wanted to leave marks.

 

The alcohol  _ had _ to be the culprit. It always was, wasn’t it? Yet the night went on. 

 

And from there, things were a mess, the tension seeming too thick to cut until it finally snapped. Almost as if on instinct, the two surged upwards and met in a fiery kiss, her leg being thrown across him, his hands cupping her ass and pulling her fully onto his lap, their kisses rough and hot and heavy. 

 

It only took a few minutes before their clothes decorated the floor, and for soft moans to fill the room. Their lovemaking was frenzied, their kisses conveying their frustration with their lot in life. There was nothing sweet about how he shoved into her, or how her nails dug into the back of his neck, and it was simple sex to forget about everything that had been dragging them down. 

 

It’s only when he slid out of her, both sweating and breathing heavily, that they realized what they had done. Not only had they broken the rule about fraternizing, but they’d also used the other for their own selfish purposes. An irreversible line had been crossed. 

 

They both had agreed that this would never happen again, that it was simply a mistake and influenced wholly by the alcohol. Things were tense, but their voices had been light, all of it a facade to get through the days. Shiro had an unreadable expression on his face as he watched her untangle herself from him, and get dressed. 

 

They swear, they swear, they swear, and they do a good job of maintaining their usual relationship over the course of the next four days. Conversations and gestures are courteous and polite, they joke around and make decisions like usual. They both pretend to keep the meticulously created system of their leadership working. 

 

On the fifth day, it all goes to hell. No one is quite sure who caved in first, but her hands are in his hair, and his tongue runs along the expanse of her neck, tasting her, savoring her. They don’t even make it to a bed this time, or anything close to a bed. He takes her against the wall, but it’s a bit slower than the first time, the slightest bit easier. 

 

When she pulls away and he gently sets her down, a stark contrast to how her head had banged against the door a few minutes ago, there is the unreadable expression again, contained in the stormy depths of his eyes. 

 

And as she gets dressed, she wants to ask him what he’s thinking about. 

 

~

 

She doesn’t, of course. There is a boundary that they cannot cross, that must not be crossed. It’s an unspoken rule, but it’s there. Neither of them cuddle, caress, stay as one would do with a lover. There are no words, except for the soft whispers of each other’s name, and the pleas for more. 

 

It isn’t until she’s on her knees in front of him one day, her head bobbing up and down and her tongue swirling deliciously on his cock while he does paperwork that they realize that they need to be a bit more discreet. 

 

And yet again, another boundary is added. They don’t have relations during office time, or anywhere near the Garrison, despite Shiro’s urge to bend her over his desk and take her in the manner that he likes. 

 

Instead, they travel to a little hotel, just on the outskirts of the city. They travel separately, and Shiro is always a bit disgruntled about the drive, but the soft kiss that Allura greets him with when he enters their hotel room is more than enough compensation.

 

Of course, things don’t stay that way long. The hotel bed is put to good use, and by the end of it all, Shiro’s quite happy with the few dents in the headboard that they’ve made. There is something exciting about this new hotel room, as if it’s an escape only the two of them know, a secret paradise. It adds a sense of mystery and excitement, and that definitely contributed to the amazing sex this time. 

 

This time, he’s the one that leaves, because there are more pressing matters for him to return to. He realizes, that at the Garrison, she was always the one leaving first seeing how she was always going to the place of his convenience. Here, they’re both equally far away from their duties, but his work is pressing and more urgent. 

 

She looks at him, and he swears that he can see a trace of resentment in her eyes as she curiously watches him get dressed. She looks small, swallowed up by the enormous covers of the bed. 

 

He doesn’t say anything as he finishes the last touches to his appearance, concealing anything that might have served as evidence to their night. With that, he slips out, the door closing quietly behind him. 

 

~

 

The next time is a few days later. They never do it every single day, it’s impossible for them to find a joined day where they’re both free. Usually it’s every three days, or something along those lines. They don’t really have a fit schedule or anything of that sort, but they send a text or share a look when they need each other. 

 

As barbaric as it sounds, the sex does wonders to his thoughts. It gives him a peace of mind, a sense of relaxing, all thoughts of Adam gone away with every single caress of her body. He’s not quite sure if it does the same, considering that they’ve been sharing less and less with one another. 

 

But then again, they hadn’t really been that close after he had come back to life anyways. She had her….Blue Paladin duties to do, and he had an ATLAS to run. 

 

He called her “Adam” once. She never talked about it. He didn’t discuss it either. 

 

~

For Shiro, things are a bit different. He ceases to remember his fiance, ceases to remember anything that has the potential to drag him down under the currents and never let him back up again.

 

With Allura, possibly because of her or simply her nature, he never could think around her. And that was what he wanted. He continued his nights with her to ensure that his mind was blank when he left, a brief respite from the constant agony and guilt that pervaded every single crevice of his mind. 

 

He supposed he projected a few things onto Allura. He supposed that he held her up to the standard that he had held Adam up to, but one thing was very clear. 

 

She was not Adam, and no matter how hard he tried, she was never going to be. 

 

It was hard not to resent her after that revelation. 

 

~

 

For Allura, it was a mix of hatred and envy and longing that kept her going with Shiro. She wanted to be where he was, where he stood. But….she couldn’t. Any move on her part would be seen as selfish. 

 

But she hated this. This wasn’t where she was meant to be. Earth was not her home, nor would it ever be. She had seen evidence of this clearly. The first week that they had saved the Earth, people had been warm and welcoming to her presence on their planet. By this time, a few months later, people looked at her as if wondering why she was still here. 

 

She was thinking about leaving. 

 

She brought it up, once, after one of their sessions. She had been watching him get dressed, the same look in her eyes as all the times before that, when she spoke. It startled him, considering the fact that neither of them spoke at all. 

 

“I’m thinking about leaving the Earth.” She said, breezily as if suggesting that the weather was warm outside. 

 

He hadn’t even stopped in his stride, simply murmured an “Okay,” before walking out. 

 

Of course, that move stung. Even though they weren’t as close as they used to be, the least he could have done was express some sort of sympathy, some sort of emotion to indicate that he would miss her.

 

~

 

She later found the reason to his apparent coldness the next time they met up. 

 

“I’m thinking that we should stop this.” He said, not bothering to get undressed, to approach her, or anything.

 

“Oh? Why?” She asked, tilting her head. 

 

“There’s someone else. And…this..it just doesn’t feel…right anymore.” Shiro said. Was he lying to himself? Probably. He knew damn well that when his breath mingled with hers, when his hands roved and roamed the curves of her body, that was when he felt the most whole. But he needed to distance himself from this. He could see in her eyes that she was getting attached, and he knew what happened to people that got attached to him. Shiro was afraid, but damn him if he would ever admit it, even to himself.

 

“I see.” She said, her eyes thoughtful. “Well, good luck.” 

 

Shiro tries to pretend like it doesn’t bother him, but it does. It succeeds in making him frustrated for the rest of the day. 

 

Allura tries to pretend like she didn’t get passed up again, passed up for a better, other person. 

 

~

 

They had one last night, as per Allura’s request. And this time, things were slower. This time, he watched her, through wide open eyes, watching as the moon coated her body in heavenly rays, watched as her hair floated around the crown of her head, watched as her lips pursed and her body contorted with his every movement. 

 

She kept her eyes wide open, memorizing the intensity of his eyes as he looked down at her, memorizing the way his hand curled around her waist, a sure reminder of his presence, watched as he slowly worshiped the planes of her skin with his lips, causing her to come undone under him. 

 

When he collapsed next to her, bodies still gliding from the exhaustion of their workout, her hand came and gently rested on his shoulder, keeping him from getting up and getting dressed. 

 

“Stay?” She asked in a small voice, with such vulnerability that it made the back of his neck prickle. This wasn’t their part of their routine, she had never asked him to stay with her and hold her before—-

 

“That’s not what we do.” He said simply, getting up and getting dressed, leaving her with the acrid tang of rejection clear in her mouth. 

  
  


_ Phase Two: The Separation _

 

They no longer work together. Any attempt at trying to be the co-leaders they used to be is now gone, now shattered. She no longer looks at him, he no longer talks to her. She sees him sometimes, walking with his new boyfriend in the halls, but that’s the extent of her interaction. 

 

She sits in a room and drowns in the memory of her homeland, specially constructed by the Holts as a thank-you for her assistance in the war. 

 

She wants to tell them that she could have done so much more, had she not been stuck sitting in the leg of her father’s last remaining creation, but she keeps that poisonous thought to herself. 

 

With no one to talk to, no one to spill herself out to, Allura finds that her thoughts are more and more dangerous as time ticks by. She’s lonely, but doesn’t do anything to change that circumstance. She doesn’t want to. She’s plenty content with curling up on the floor, the metal of the Garrison issued shelves pressing against her back, and a log of her people resting on her lap. 

 

She’s a good soldier outside, following orders, doing her duty, smiling, eating, breathing, behaving normally. No one can see the hatred bubbling up inside of her at the slight to her character, to her position, to anything. No one can see, because she’s a master of deception. 

 

Inside the room, however, she whispers all her thoughts to the dusty shelves of the last remaining logs and records of her Altea. Inside, she whispers about her endless plans to defeat the box they’ve shoved her into, and reclaim her birthright. 

 

Seems a bit odd to be in this position now, but she can’t help but feel any other way. The hatred for where she is grows and grows due to the lack of proper attention and respect. 

 

No one else can see it, and the only man who can, doesn’t meet her eyes anymore. So what’s the point? She herself knows what’s going on, she understands that she’s beginning to detest anything and everything, but there is no point anymore. There is no greater cause for her to work towards, so there should be no reason why she answers to a fucking teenager on the battlefield. 

 

~

 

“Allura? Can you join us?” His voice calls out to her, and their in the middle of the meeting, and it’s the first time he’s talked to her in so long. His voice is dry and sarcastic and completely raw, and she almost hates the way it cuts her. She blinks and lifts her head off her hand, gazing at the spot right behind him so she doesn’t have to look at him directly. 

 

“Sorry, I was thinking. You were saying?” She makes a little hand-gesture to prompt him to continue. 

 

“We’re thinking about infusing quintessence in the newest particle barriers as an extra defense, and we need you to complete the task.” Smooth, professional. She wonders why she even thought that she would have been captivating enough for him to stay with her. 

 

“No.” Her voice, firm in its decision, startles everyone. The woman who has been on her phone for the last eighteen minutes looks up with wide eyes, the Altean’s refusal capturing everyone’s attention. 

 

Shiro’s gaze bores into her for the first time in weeks, and he’s surprised to see how much she’s changed. And the one time he looks at her, she doesn’t look back at him, and it drives him crazy. He sees that her gaze is directed towards something else, not right at him. 

 

Her eyes make his breath hitch slightly. They’re dark, like the bottom of the ocean at night. The playful sparkle, the youthful glimmer that decorated her irises is now gone, leaving only a strict, glare that takes up most of the view. It’s as if her eyes are hollow, any traces of the life that they used to contain completely gone. 

 

But there is no time for that. There is no time to talk about how her eyes resemble burning coals, as if she’s lit up and on fire with deep hatred. There is no time, and he manages to muster out a dangerous, “Excuse me?”

 

“You heard me.” She says simply, her voice light, but the statement having its implications. “I will not be adding to the additional resources that Earth needs. The planet has leeched enough off of mine, I think.” She said, her finger rubbing over one of her cuticles in a controlled little circle to demonstrate her nonchalance about the entire matter. 

 

“Allura--we haven’t-” He starts, trying the diplomatic approach, but was quickly shot down. 

 

“It’s Princess Allura, or do the denizens of Earth not recognize the principle of Altea and royalty? Despite not having a planet, it would do you well to address me with a sign of respect, as I still have people and considerable power. Power that you are requesting. As for this planet taking my resources, it is painfully clear. Not only is Voltron, the remainder of my father’s legacy being piloted by someone of the enemy race, almost all the captains are humans. Additionally, the ATLAS, which is my birthright, considering that it is a copy of the Castle, is being piloted. So no, Commander. My people will not go out of their way to be pillaged for our help anymore.” She says, standing up fluidly before gracefully making her exit. 

 

The meeting room is silent for a few moments, the other occupants in wide-eyed wonder at the fact that someone had managed to talk to Shiro in such a manner. As for the Commander himself, he takes a few breaths before beginning the next course of action. And as much as he wants to chase her down the hallway and yank her to a stop, demanding to know what the hell is her problem, he is the Commander and cannot stop for one single person. 

 

But she stays on his mind for the remainder of the day, the image of those soulless eyes branded onto the backs of his eyes.

 

~

 

The baths are the newest place for him to relax and reflect on the days’ events. He takes them at odd times, and today is no different. It’s three in the morning, as stated by his alarm clock which beeps steady red numbers at him. 

He enjoys walking through the hallways, clean and deserted and completely quiet, as if he’s alone. When he does make it to the baths, however, he’s a bit surprised to see that the lights are on, but dim to ensure that no one would wake up. 

 

He tiptoes his way, wondering who was up at this hour. A silvery mane belonging to someone he knew gives him his answer, the strands of hair billowing out under the water. 

 

It had been a few minutes until Shiro realizes that Allura hadn’t moved at all, and instead was submerged under the water. 

 

Sheer panic grips him, and he drops the towel he’s holding to dive into the waters and pull her body out. Her body is light, so light, and he can feel bones where just a few months ago, he had gripped so roughly. She feels fragile in his arms, as if the slightest motion would break her. She sputters when he lays her out on the ground, him not paying attention to the fact that she isn’t wearing a stitch of clothing. He watches as she gasps, sucking in lungfuls of air, and coughing in between the bouts of breathing. 

 

“What the hell were you thinking?!” He asks once she’s calmed down, and she opens her mouth to say something, but he’s too upset and continues. 

 

“What were you doing, in the water like that? Did you fall asleep? Don’t you know that’s dangerous?” He continues, once again ignoring her attempt to speak.

 

“And how dare you talk to me like that?! In the middle of the meeting?!” He huffs, his earlier frustration bubbling over into his scoldings, and by this time, she’s been tugging on his sleeve to get his attention.

 

“Shiro.”

 

“What?” 

 

“Can I please have the towel or something--? I’m not wearing anything, and I’m cold.” She asks, and he nods. 

 

He doesn’t hand her the towel like she expects, but insteads dries her off carefully, his brows furrowed as usual when he’s thinking about something. He gives her his shirt to cover up in, and she wears it gratefully.

 

“What happened to you?” He asks again, his voice soft. She has to bite her lip to ensure that she doesn’t unravel in front of him at being able to hear his voice again in such close proximity. 

 

She knows the question is a loaded one, but she decides against answering it in the way he wants. 

 

“Nothing,” she says. “I just fell asleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” She says, and picks herself up and pads away from him, once again. 

 

It isn’t until Shiro’s unwinding in the bath that he realizes that her eyes were open underwater. 

 

He gets up, and this time, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that it’s so early in the morning, that she needs her rest, or anything. He deserves answers, he needs them, or he swears that he’s going to go mad. 

 

“What’s going on with you?” He demands, bursting into her room, and it seems as though he’s caught her in the prime moment: right before she’s about to go to bed. 

 

She’s still wearing his shirt, even as she slides under the covers. He leans against the door, his arms crossed, his expression anticipatory. 

 

“What do you mean?” She asks, and he wants to growl and bang his head against the door at her supposed innocence in the matter. 

 

“You. All of it.” He bites out in short, clipped sentences. “You refusing to help with the defenses? You refusing to help Earth?” He points out, his eyebrow raising. 

 

Apparently, that’s all it takes for her to snap. 

 

“Why should I help a world that is of no importance to me? Don’t give me the bullshit about helping the nation for the greater good. What greater good, huh? My planet doesn’t even exist anymore. Your Earth is not worthy of my time and energy, considering the fact that this damn planet has taken everything of Altea’s and has employed it to their own advantage without my consent. How would you feel, Shiro, if you were passed up again and again for your birthright, and in the end, as fucking consolation prize, you got demoted to foot soldier? How would you feel when you realized that this planet has no respect for you nor your accomplishments, and does not even recognize you as someone of importance? How would you feel if you were forced to answer to a fucking teenage boy, just because the head you appointed deemed him fit to lead?”

 

The laugh that Shiro answers with is cold, but she is past being scared. There is no more light to her eyes, and everything that she feels is coming out. 

 

“Are you seriously going to withdraw aid from Earth just because I picked Keith over you? Grow up, Allura. Even Earth children understand that things needed to be delegated and passed around. If this is how you feel, I’m glad I chose him instead of you and your hissy fits.”  He says, his tone sharp. 

 

The next movements were fluid and completely intentional. He found himself being shoved up against the door, a hand wrapped around the collar of his shirt, and dark, glinting eyes staring right at him. 

 

“You were the one I chose to lead my father’s creation. Not the one to control it. You had no right deciding who became the next leader, nor did you have any right to make any decisions concerning it. You lost that privilege when you didn’t take into consideration my co-leadership.” Her voice is calm, and that made it even more scarier. 

 

Shiro wisely decided to stay silent.

 

“I see no potential in this planet. I see a replication of Galra ideals, and essentially a waste of my time. Humans are selfish, idiotic, greedy creatures with little to no morals. By stating that what they are doing is for the greater good, they deceive, and they use the people around them for their own agendas. In the end, no one can be around them. Eventually, those that they love will be used as stepping stones, cast away and down to assist humans in getting the thing that they desire.” She says, releasing him. 

 

“That’s not true.” He protests, his eyes widening at the description of his race.

 

“It is. It’s true. And you, Shiro, you’re the prime example of them.” She says, and if her words hadn’t cut deep recesses into his heart, now they did. 

 

He felt his world spinning, and could barely comprehend that someone thought so lowly of him. 

 

“I--” He begins.

“I know I wasn’t Adam, but the least you could have done was tell me that you loved the idea of him in me, but not me.” She whispers, and now there is nothing else for him to say. She knows, she’s wrong, but the words have been stolen from his mouth, and there is nothing more he can say as he turns and walks out from her room. 

 

_ Phase Three: The Gradual Realization  _

 

He avoids her. 

 

What else was she expecting, really? She’s so numb to whatever goes on with him that she doesn’t really care that it’s gone right back to how it was before she snapped at him last night. 

 

She does her thing and quietly ruminates about her life without making a single change, while he continually refuses to interact with her in fear of her sharp tongue. 

 

She is like a  _ fatwa _ , dealing lashes out to him with every stroke of her tongue. Every word she speaks has truth that is too much for his ears to hear. 

 

But maybe….things aren’t the way that they were before she snapped at him. 

 

If they were, then after the practice battle between the ATLAS and Voltron, there would not be a reason why Shiro would seek her out and drape a blanket over her curled up form. 

 

But he does, and she doesn’t quite understand it. She also doesn’t quite understand it when she feels a small little pressure in the cot that she’s occupying, and a thumb pressing to the little hollow of her cheek. 

 

He turns her eyes and makes her look at him, his eyes boring into hers, but it isn’t an angry gaze. Instead, he radiates comfort and confidence, and the tension in her shoulders seems to droop. 

 

Maybe that’s why she steps up during the next meeting and announces that she has changed her mind and will be working on the quintessence-infused particle barrier at the earliest notice. 

 

When she sits alone in the mess hall, a book by her bowl of whatever food they were serving, she’s alerted by a presence next to her. Shiro sinks down into the seat next to her, and he has his own work to do, but all she can think about is the fact that his hand casually presses up against the back of her chair.

 

He doesn’t let her eat alone, doesn’t let her exercise alone, or anything. He’s there, handing her a water bottle before she even has to ask for it, mopping away her sweat. 

 

He’s there, and maybe that’s why her eyes lighten considerably, her markings soft and pink once more. He’s there, and maybe that’s why she visits the Altea room less and less. 

 

She wonders why he lingers around her, as if she is still worth his time, but she doesn’t mind it at all. 

 

He’s sitting next to her, his hand gently draped across the back of her chair, when he breaks the silence. They aren’t doing anything special, she’s reading a book and he’s been scribbling on a note-pad. 

 

“You’re wrong, you know.” He says softly, light as a feather. 

 

She sticks her finger in the spine of the book to mark the page before turning to him and tilting her head. She doesn’t need to ask what he’s talking about, he knows her well enough to know what her follow up questions entail.

 

“About Adam. Sure...at the beginning, but..not later.” He says, not even looking up from where he was writing out a detailed explanation of all the happenings of the Garrison. 

 

It’s a moment of silence before he realizes that nothing is silent and soft little sniffles from the woman next to him indicate that she’s crying. 

 

“O--oh” He murmurs, at a loss as to why she’s crying. As if on instinct, he gathers her into his arms and holds tight, letting her cry into his shoulder. 

 

She doesn’t have to justify herself to him, and he can feel her anguish. He can feel her frustration at the thought of her position in his planet, he can feel her collective anguish over his past and present actions, he can feel the Princess breaking down in his arms. 

 

And he realizes, that this is the first time she’s breaking down. This entire time, he’s thought of her as a strong figure, and crying has never been one of the actions he’s associated with her. She’s finally thrown caution into the wind and has fallen to pieces in his arms. 

 

Her hair tickles his nose when he pulls her closer to him. He thinks about everything, everything that has happened to her, and realizes, that out of it all, his refusal to stay with her for that one night might have done the most harm. 

 

There is nothing that he can say that would restore her faith in him.

 

_ Phase Four: Acceptance _

 

But he can show it. It’s small little gestures. That’s how they used to operate, and that’s how they’ll operate now. 

 

It’s the small gesture of him moving over to the Black Paladin and slowly letting her take full control of the ATLAS. 

 

It’s the small gesture of him sitting by her, sharing the thoughts of his day, respecting her and listening to her opinions, it’s the small gestures that counts. 

 

But for some reason, she seems unattainable, more than ever. Her lips curl up in the grin that makes the corners of his lips tug up in response, but there is a vacancy in her eyes, a wariness, a guardedness, a subtle manner of keeping her distance. 

 

It’s one night, when she’s sitting on the couch of his office, him sitting next to her, when she breaks the silence that had been growing between them, and asks, “Stay?” 

 

He had just been about to get up, and he begins to say, “No, there’s a lot of work--” 

 

And then he freezes and turns around and sees the vulnerability that had been present the last time, her delicate features already falling at the apparent rejection of her offer. 

 

And he realizes that she has long forgiven him for all of his other transgressions, except for this one. 

 

He cuts his sentence and smiles. “Yeah.” He answers, sinking down next to her, the cushions soft and accommodating. He’s staying this time, and he can see by the shy traces of joy on her face, that it was the right decision. 

And this time, she is the one to gently rest her head on his shoulder, and his arm snakes around her and pulls her closer in response. 

 

Maybe this time, she’ll accept that he won’t leave. Maybe this time, he’ll accept that she’s not Adam, but she’s  _ his _ Allura, and that’s so much better. 

 

_ Phase Five: Contentment.  _

 

They don’t do words. 

 

That’s not how they work. 

 

It’s the little things. It’s the way he hums and gently wraps his arms around her and pulls her back into his chest, it’s the way her body curls into his perfectly, her ear pressed against his chest to hear the familiar lullaby of his heart….It’s the little things. 

 

And they know that they are far from perfect, but with each other, maybe the flaws get a little less noticeable. 

 

He’s the one who quietly whispers his thanks to her, whispers her title, reminds her that she’s important and loved and wanted. 

 

She’s the one who gently holds his hand and wipes away his tears when they pay their respects to Adam every month. 

 

He’s content to let her rest her head on his lap, his hands twirling strand after strand of her celestial hair, his eyes soft and in awe of the woman in front of him. There is no need for anyone else, not when he has an angel right in front of him. 

 

She’s not so subtle with her affections. Her lipstick has a second home smeared over his lips and his cheek, and she enjoys the soft, breathy laugh that she draws out from him. 

 

The first year passes by, and the warmth of one another at night is constant. Their relationship doesn’t change. There are little to no fights, and even if there is, by the end of the day, they seek out one another. 

 

Their relationship is stable, loving, and it continues that way as it progresses into Year Two. 

 

Year Two is a softer continuation of year one, with much more familiarity and sickly-sweet nicknames accompanying the cuddly nights. At the end of year two, a silver band decorates their ring fingers. 

 

It is now, Year Three, that matters the most. It’s when Shiro slides into bed, curling protectively around his Allura, the wedding ring on his finger cold and a bit permeable through the light fabric of her shirt, his hand rubbing slow circles over his stomach, soothing their unborn child, a testament of their love. 

 

There is no need for words as she beams at him, cheeks glowing with the radiance of motherhood, there is no need for words as he presses a soft kiss to her rounding belly before pressing another kiss to her lips.

 

But then again, there has never been a need for words. 

**Author's Note:**

> tell me what you thought! leave a comment, drop a kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> catch me on tumblr: @chai-and-coffee


End file.
